Black family christmas party
His dress robes were too tight, the stiff collar pressing against his throat as if trying to choke him. The entire house reeked of polished wood, burning candles, and expensive perfume so strong it gave Sirius a headache. He wasn’t sure why he’d even bothered coming downstairs. But he had to because Walburga Black would sooner drag him down the stairs herself than allow her rebellious firstborn to hide from a night that was supposed to showcase the very best of the Black family.
Unfortunately, Sirius was not the best of the Black family. In fact, he was the shame of it.
And his mother never let him forget it. As the guests entered, Walburga stood at the entrance of the drawing room, poised like a queen surveying her court. Beside her, Sirius’s father, Orion, stood stiff and silent, occasionally nodding to the more important guests. Regulus, stood dutifully by their side, his hands clasped neatly in front of him, his face blank but composed. Irene was already perfectly trained, standing still with an elegant expression on her face, watching the guests with quiet observance. Astraelle, however, kept shifting on her feet, tugging at the sleeves of her dress robes, clearly bored but trying her best to behave. “Yes Druella, he has completely gone against everything, me and Orion are at a loss of what to do.” Walburga said suddenly, just loud enough for sirius to hear.
“You mean griffindor?" Druella said in a hushed but pointed tone, giving Sirius a slow, disapproving look. “A tragedy, truly. It must be difficult for you, Walburga.”
“Oh, it is,” Walburga sighed dramatically. “The shame, Druella. The shame. My own son. And yet, I endure.”
Sirius clenched his fists. “I’m right here, you know.”
His mother gave him a cold, amused smile. “Yes, darling, I know.”
A few of the nearby guests chuckled. Sirius’s jaw tightened.
Astraelle, still too young to fully understand, piped up, “What’s wrong with Gryffindor?”
Walburga’s expression darkened. “Hush, Astraelle. You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“But I like the lion,” Astraelle said, frowning. “It’s a cool animal.”
There was a moment of appalled silence.
Sirius grinned. “That’s the spirit, Astra.”
Walburga shot him a venomous look. Astraelle quickly shrank back, realizing she had said something wrong but not quite knowing what.
The guests continued to pour in, and Sirius could feel their eyes on him. He could hear the hushed murmurs. That’s the Black disgrace. The Gryffindor. The disappointment.
He turned away from them, eyes scanning the room until, finally, spotted something worth smiling about.
Evan and Pandora had arrived.
Evan strode in with the usual lazy, half-bored look on his face, his sharp eyes scanning the room as though judging every single person in it. He was dressed impeccably, of course his mother wouldn’t allow anything less, but he carried himself with an air of disinterest, as if he was only here for the free food.
Pandora, on the other hand, looked completely delighted to be there, not because she cared for the snobby gathering but because she found it amusing. Her wild blonde curls had been brushed back into something resembling order, though a few strands still refused to obey. She grinned when she spotted Sirius.
“Merlin, you look like you’re about to explode,” she said with a slightly worried look.
“Because I am,” Sirius muttered. “I swear, if I hear my mother praise Regulus one more time-”
“You will,” Evan cut in, dropping into the armchair opposite them. “And then you’ll scowl, and she’ll pretend she’s not looking at you while enjoying how miserable you are.” He took a slow sip of his drink. “It’s a fascinating family dynamic.”
Pandora giggled. “Sirius, if you explode, do try and aim for Bella. Just to make the night more interesting.”
Sirius snorted but said nothing. Across the room, his mother was indeed singing Regulus’s praises again.
“Unlike some,” Walburga was saying in a voice laced with sugar-coated venom, “my Regulus is such a credit to our family.”
Sirius rolled his eyes.
Evan smirked. “Careful, If you roll your eyes any harder, they might actually pop out.”
“Oh, no,” Pandora gasped dramatically. “Then he’d be blind and wouldn’t have to look at all these horrid people anymore. What a tragedy.”
Sirius let out a loud bark of laughter. A few guests turned to look at him disapprovingly. Walburga’s glare was practically lethal.
Irene and Astraelle had wandered over to them at some point, their small forms hovering close to the sofa. Astraelle tugged at Sirius’s sleeve. “Why do they talk about you like that?” she asked. Sirius hesitated. Evan leaned forward slightly, watching with mild curiosity.
“She doesn’t like me very much,” Sirius admitted finally, keeping his voice light.
Astraelle frowned. “But you’re our brother.”
“That doesn’t really matter to them,” he said bitterly.
Irene, ever perceptive, placed a hand on Astraelle’s shoulder. “We should go back,” she murmured. “Mother won’t like us talking to Sirius too much.”
Sirius’s heart twisted painfully at that. Irene was scared, she knew what would happen if she didnt follow the rules.
Pandora reached over and squeezed his hand once, a silent reassurance.
Evan sighed, swirling his drink. “This is depressing."
Evan caught Sirius’ gaze and smirked. “Tell me you’re at least considering slipping something questionable into the drinks.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of setting the drapes on fire,” Sirius muttered.
Pandora hummed. “That would be a very Serious thing to do.”
“Pun absolutely intended,” Evan added.
Before Sirius could respond with something properly sarcastic, a voice cut through the air like a blade.
"—he was a mistake," Walburga Black was saying, her voice sharp but controlled, perfectly composed for the benefit of their guests.
"Allways has been," she continued, her tone so casual, as if she were discussing a distasteful piece of furniture rather than her own son. "He’s in the way. If he weren’t here, Regulus could take his rightful place without distraction. No corruption. No stane on our family name."
Sirius felt the world tilt under his feet.
"I don’t love him," Walburga said. "I can’t. How could I? The sooner he realizes he does not belong, the better."
A ringing silence filled his ears.
Before anyone could notice, he turned and slipped into the hallway. Sirius pressed his back against the cool stone, taking shaky breaths.
"Stane on the family name."
"I don’t love him."
"Does not fit in."
Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, his fists clenched at his sides. He would not cry. Not over her. Not in this house. But despite himself, a lump formed in his throat, burning, aching. Tears streaked down his face, he tried to stop them but they kept falling. And soon he was silently sobbing.
“Sirius?”
His head snapped up.
Standing at the entrance to the hall were Evan and Pandora, watching him with twin expressions of concern, though Evan’s had a distinct air of what did you do this time.
Sirius quickly turned away, running a hand through his hair. "Go back inside," he muttered. "I’m fine."
Evan snorted " You are most definitely not fine."
Pandora took a step closer, her voice gentle but knowing. "What happened?"
"Nothing," Sirius said too quickly.
Evan raised an eyebrow. "Oh? So you just love storming out of rooms dramatically for no reason?"
Sirius exhaled sharply, leaning back against the wall. "I heard my mother talking," he admitted, his voice quieter now.
The teasing faded from Evan’s face instantly. Pandora’s soft expression hardened.
"What did she say?" she asked.
Sirius let out a humorless chuckle. "That she wishes I wasn’t born. That I’m in the way. That she doesn’t love me."
Silence.
Then—
Evan sighed. "Well. That’s rude."
Sirius blinked. "...Rude?"
"Yes, rude," Evan said matter-of-factly. "I mean, at least have the decency to insult you somewhere you can’t hear it. Poor form, really."
Pandora huffed. "Terrible manners."
Evan nodded seriously. "Exactly. You’d think someone who spends all day screeching about proper decorum would know that talking shit about your own son in public is a bit tacky."
Sirius let out a short, unexpected laugh. "Tacky?"
"Oh, incredibly tacky," Pandora confirmed. "She should be ashamed. A true disgrace to high society."
Evan shook his head. "Embarrassing, really."
Sirius tried to suppress a grin, but it fought its way through the sadness anyway.
Evan smirked. "See? There we go, your okay."
Sirius rolled his eyes, but his chest.
"Look," Evan said, leaning against the wall beside him. "Your mother is... how do I put this delicately? A ghoul in expensive robes."
"With a voice like nails on a chalkboard," Pandora added helpfully.
"And the personality of a Dementor."
"And the soul of a particularly spiteful turnip."
Sirius snorted. "A turnip?"
Pandora nodded sagely. "An ugly one."
Evan continued. "The point is, her opinion? Means absolutely nothing. She’s wrong, and also, frankly, horrifically boring. And you, Sirius, are many things, but you are not boring"
Sirius let out a slow breath. He still felt raw, still felt like something had been scraped out of his chest, but… they made it bearable.
Pandora offered her arm. "Come back inside with us?"
Sirius hesitated.
Sensing this, Evan grinned. "Come on, If it helps, I could set something on fire. I saw some very flammable-looking curtains in there."
Pandora rolled her eyes. "No arson, Evan."
"No obvious arson," Evan amended.
Sirius laughed, shaking his head. "Fine. But if she even looks at me wrong, I’m flipping the table."
Evan grinned. "That’s the spirit!"
Pandora sighed. "Merlin help us all."